


To the Bird Who Tells Me to Take a Break: No

by IdlePace



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlePace/pseuds/IdlePace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm summer afternoon is the perfect time for Animal-Crossing, if you know how to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Bird Who Tells Me to Take a Break: No

“The bane of having a lost item!” A swoop of his free hand to his forehead complimented Sjin’s exasperated tone. “Just take the book, or diary, or whatever it is!” Frantic mashing of buttons and still no relief to his breathing. “Now you listen here squirrel.” With a dramatic point to the center of the screen, the stubble on Sjin’s upper lip flared with his anger.

Settling along the raised shoulders, a laidback arm helped to pull in the building ball of rage. “Sjin, you can’t yell at a squirrel. They probably can’t even read the book.” A portable game console hung listlessly from Sips’ nail bitten fingers, all in sacrifice for a sneak peek over at the other’s screen. His eyebrows danced playfully, while his eyes darted from game to disgruntled face, trying to make silence into laughter.

Gathering up a shrill breath, Sjin’s hand gesture turned vulgar. “They may not be able to read, but I bet a sore bottom they can understand this.”

Falling back against the scuffed wall of his bedroom, Sips blew his lips into a slow low buzz. As he unpaused his game he stifled a snicker, a comeback constructing quickly in his head. “I didn’t know you were betting your ass on things now, Sjin.”

Returning to his game after holding his stance a moment longer, Sjin lolled his head from side to side in mock laughter before muttering crude and indistinguishable curses at the pixelated animal. His sour emotions fell piece by piece as he sank into the other teen. Another mumble at his problem disappeared on his tongue as he stretched, feeling his limbs pop and refresh blood flow.

“How long have we been at this?” Sjin rubbed at his eyes, careful not to smudge about leftover Doritos cheese that stained his fingers.

“Hold on Sjin. I need to catch a fish for this horse.” Sips’ stoic tone grew even flatter the more he was immersed into the bright and cheerful game.

Forcing his back further into Sips’ thick side, Sjin’s whine transcended the range of dogs. “Sipsy, none of my villagers like me!” The throw back of his head bounced against Sips’ shoulder, offering more comfort than the vertical drywall.

Sjin pouted his lips as he was ignored, a virtual fish stealing his attention. Quick reflexive schemes popped into his head as he debated over how to bring the moment back to him but his body felt too tired to act on any of them. He stared up at the chugging ceiling fan, closing each eye in cycle, receiving the view on harsh angle changes.

“If you’re the mayor, how do you collect taxes?” Sips’ voice croaked, “How else do these guys expect me to build this bridge?”

Rolling his tongue in his mouth, a wet noise expelled with Sjin’s condensed sigh. “You can’t collect taxes. I’ve tried.” Hurling his hands into the air, game system clutched within his fingers, Sjin shook the machine like it ate his last quarter. “Where are the cheat codes for this thing?!” He fell back into his slumped state with a huff, snapping the system shut without a second thought.

“Maybe we should create a pyramid scheme.” Sips’ illegitimate suggestion sprung an approving chuckle from his usual partner in crime. “Yeah, you pay me all your life savings, and I’ll pay you capital as I get it.”

Flaring up for the strike back, Sjin stuck his hands to his hips to elevate his show of displeasure. “Hey buster, I’m supposed to be at the top of this scheme with you!”

Following suit, Sips shut his game, tossing it to a pile of clothes at the side of his bed. “Every Ponzi needs a patsy, Sjin.” A glimmer in his eyes formed as a yawn froze him in place.

A curled smirk formed naturally on Sjin’s face, fitting exactly into every corner as if he was born with the foxish grin. “I think you messed up the wording, Sips.” One leg over and the other boosting him up from his spot, an informal fit onto Sips’ lap brought back simple securities. “It’s every Ponzi needs a pastry.”

Sips smacked his lips at the words, “Aw Sjin, don’t get me hungry.” Gentle dragging through the summer air and Sips’ hands found their place of Sjin’s back, holding him in close familiarity. The unsteady hum of the fan above them swirled its motions as the teen’s grins touched before their lips did.

“You know…” Sjin’s words barely escaped the firm press of skin, “There’s Skittles in my back pocket. If you want to reach and get some.”

Sudden air for a dramatic scoff rippled against Sjin’s cheek, “Yeah, just like last time. You can’t fool me twice, Sjin.” Sips adjusted his grip, his full stomach laugh forcing the change.

“You can’t lie, my pants are pretty sweet.” He mouthed his words on repeat as he let the tension in his body release, collapsing entirely. His own unshaven jaw scraping against the temperature inappropriate flannel shirt, chimed well with Sips’, as its gradual halt brought a full bodied sigh.

Fingers tapped out an offbeat rhythm against his prominent spine, a drawn out tune he recognized from one of Sips’ favourite underappreciated rock bands, as stated fully but Sips in a warm night’s drunken ramble. Each repeating thump relaxed Sjin further, giving him time to mull over what rattled in his head.

“Sips! None of my villagers like me!” The whinge pierced the infrequent quiet moment between them, turning the tapping fingers to reassuring pats. 

“Well first off you gotta stop calling them peons. Goats and chickens don’t like that, but fish the size of their face? They’ll be on you like mud and slush!”


End file.
